As my father had been central to my world for so long it was an
incredible wrench for me to be parted from him at school. The first few
weeks my homesickness caused me almost unbearable pain. My Father began
sending me incense sticks to burn by my bedside, which eased it a little.
He burns them in the house and I often used them in my room. The smell of
them is comforting, and reminds me of home.
Apart from the nightly homesickness, life at Hogwarts School is a breeze. I have no trouble with lessons - my father taught me the basics at an early age so lessons in the first year were a mere formality. I already knew any spell or potion that was worth knowing. I had also been schooled in the things Hogwarts omitted from its curriculum, namely the Dark Arts. Nothing too serious at first, but my Father is gradually preparing me for when I will follow in his footsteps as a Death Eater. And of course I had no worries about making friends, the Malfoy name attracts all sorts of followers and hangers on. As for those that choose not to follow in my wake, well, they are beneath even acknowledging.
However, one particular incident involving a Gryffindor first year - significant only for her dangerously foolhardy bolshiness - managed to penetrate my veneer and make me loose control. This...'creature', dared to suggest that - I can hardly bear to repeat this out loud - my Father was a 'nasty and horrid man'. I was absolutely livid. I felt anger like I'd never felt before. A white-hot rage swept over me and I reached for my wand. Nobody insults my Father; nobody pours scorn upon my family name! The blast of my highly practiced and perfected Cruciatus curse hit her at full force. Her agony was so intense that she couldn't even cry out. I stood ramrod straight, watching her silent suffering, feeling my anger turn to a triumphant feeling of power that burned within me, intensifying. My concentration was snapped moments later by a shrill cackle echoing down the corridor. I blinked and found the Bloody Baron hovering before me, partly obscuring the sobbing and wheezing form of the Gryffindor. He motioned for me to follow, and floated off with me on his tail.
Secluded in an alcove, the Bloody Baron warned me of the consequences of my actions, and how I narrowly missed being exposed by Peeves. I was worried, but he assured me he would deal with the poltergeist. I know the Baron well, and I enjoy my talks with him. The Slytherin ghost is the one at Hogwarts most like my Father, though more sombre and melancholy in his death.
The Bloody Baron remembers my Father's days at Hogwarts, and he often regales me with tales of his reign here. Lucius Malfoy ruled the school. It is a Malfoy's prerogative, and their duty, to oversee many aspects of the day-to-day life at Hogwarts School, and my Father was the greatest of them all. Every single Slytherin was in his power, he ruled Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff through fear, and even brave Gryffindor was crushed by his iron fist. No one dared oppose him, not even the professors or the headmaster. The Baron chuckles to himself as he recalls how many non-Slytherins, to their shame, found themselves inexplicably drawn to him, helpless to resist the force of his charismatic personality. Students in those days strove to outdo each other in pleasing him; constantly vying for his attention without even realising they were doing so. This phenomenon so afflicted the staff too, particularly - the ghost adds with a wry smile - the female members.
In addition to allowing me to discuss my favourite topic - namely my father - my meetings with the Bloody Baron further solidify my burning desire to emulate him and to make him proud of me. The responsibility for the behind the scenes manipulation of Hogwarts life has now fallen into my hands. I do not even dare hope to equal my Father's past success, yet all my energy goes into proving myself to him, and justifying my position as heiress to the great Lucius Malfoy. My father is such a powerful and imposing figure that one cannot help but crave his respect and pride. I live for the moments where he expresses pleasure in something I have done, and my heart could burst with joy when he tells me I have made him proud. However I am dogged by the fear of being inadequate and the fear of failure. A Malfoy must always be in control and always be victorious. A Malfoy must never show weakness, never expose vulnerability to others. And I would die before I brought shame upon my Father.
Like my Father I am neither a prefect nor a quidditch player. I prefer not to perform menial tasks such as patrolling corridors or getting my robes dirty riding round on a broomstick getting hit by bludgers myself. Instead I control these operations in the background. The Slytherin prefects are chosen by me and they act upon my instructions. The house quidditch team too, is run by me. No decision regarding that team is taken without my consent. Training and game play is delegated to my captain, but I oversee all organisational aspects and intervene in major tactical decisions.
I particularly enjoy the running of the quidditch team. The players are fun to toy with. The run-up to my first match was most amusing. Competition for a place on Draconis Malfoy's Slytherin quidditch team is exceptionally high. I make sure of that.
It is the greatest desire to be selected for the honour of serving this house on my quidditch team. They almost all dream of being one of the school celebrities, performing before hordes of admiring students cheering them on to victory. With my return they longed to repeat the glorious run of my Father's team 30 years ago. During his time at the helm my father brought the Quidditch Cup home to Slytherin seven years in a row.
I kept them all guessing right up until the deadline. It made me laugh to watch their faces light up with desperate hope as I falsely hinted that they were still in the running. I sent them off on all sorts of ludicrous errands; I had so much chocolate cake smuggled up from the kitchens that I had to get rid of it by throwing it at the owls, and that first term I never had to complete a single piece of homework. I was perfectly capable of doing it myself of course; I just simply couldn't be bothered. And in my position, I don't have to. Oh I do so love to play games with people!
However there is one major problem with my quidditch team.
Apart from the nightly homesickness, life at Hogwarts School is a breeze. I have no trouble with lessons - my father taught me the basics at an early age so lessons in the first year were a mere formality. I already knew any spell or potion that was worth knowing. I had also been schooled in the things Hogwarts omitted from its curriculum, namely the Dark Arts. Nothing too serious at first, but my Father is gradually preparing me for when I will follow in his footsteps as a Death Eater. And of course I had no worries about making friends, the Malfoy name attracts all sorts of followers and hangers on. As for those that choose not to follow in my wake, well, they are beneath even acknowledging.
However, one particular incident involving a Gryffindor first year - significant only for her dangerously foolhardy bolshiness - managed to penetrate my veneer and make me loose control. This...'creature', dared to suggest that - I can hardly bear to repeat this out loud - my Father was a 'nasty and horrid man'. I was absolutely livid. I felt anger like I'd never felt before. A white-hot rage swept over me and I reached for my wand. Nobody insults my Father; nobody pours scorn upon my family name! The blast of my highly practiced and perfected Cruciatus curse hit her at full force. Her agony was so intense that she couldn't even cry out. I stood ramrod straight, watching her silent suffering, feeling my anger turn to a triumphant feeling of power that burned within me, intensifying. My concentration was snapped moments later by a shrill cackle echoing down the corridor. I blinked and found the Bloody Baron hovering before me, partly obscuring the sobbing and wheezing form of the Gryffindor. He motioned for me to follow, and floated off with me on his tail.
Secluded in an alcove, the Bloody Baron warned me of the consequences of my actions, and how I narrowly missed being exposed by Peeves. I was worried, but he assured me he would deal with the poltergeist. I know the Baron well, and I enjoy my talks with him. The Slytherin ghost is the one at Hogwarts most like my Father, though more sombre and melancholy in his death.
The Bloody Baron remembers my Father's days at Hogwarts, and he often regales me with tales of his reign here. Lucius Malfoy ruled the school. It is a Malfoy's prerogative, and their duty, to oversee many aspects of the day-to-day life at Hogwarts School, and my Father was the greatest of them all. Every single Slytherin was in his power, he ruled Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff through fear, and even brave Gryffindor was crushed by his iron fist. No one dared oppose him, not even the professors or the headmaster. The Baron chuckles to himself as he recalls how many non-Slytherins, to their shame, found themselves inexplicably drawn to him, helpless to resist the force of his charismatic personality. Students in those days strove to outdo each other in pleasing him; constantly vying for his attention without even realising they were doing so. This phenomenon so afflicted the staff too, particularly - the ghost adds with a wry smile - the female members.
In addition to allowing me to discuss my favourite topic - namely my father - my meetings with the Bloody Baron further solidify my burning desire to emulate him and to make him proud of me. The responsibility for the behind the scenes manipulation of Hogwarts life has now fallen into my hands. I do not even dare hope to equal my Father's past success, yet all my energy goes into proving myself to him, and justifying my position as heiress to the great Lucius Malfoy. My father is such a powerful and imposing figure that one cannot help but crave his respect and pride. I live for the moments where he expresses pleasure in something I have done, and my heart could burst with joy when he tells me I have made him proud. However I am dogged by the fear of being inadequate and the fear of failure. A Malfoy must always be in control and always be victorious. A Malfoy must never show weakness, never expose vulnerability to others. And I would die before I brought shame upon my Father.
Like my Father I am neither a prefect nor a quidditch player. I prefer not to perform menial tasks such as patrolling corridors or getting my robes dirty riding round on a broomstick getting hit by bludgers myself. Instead I control these operations in the background. The Slytherin prefects are chosen by me and they act upon my instructions. The house quidditch team too, is run by me. No decision regarding that team is taken without my consent. Training and game play is delegated to my captain, but I oversee all organisational aspects and intervene in major tactical decisions.
I particularly enjoy the running of the quidditch team. The players are fun to toy with. The run-up to my first match was most amusing. Competition for a place on Draconis Malfoy's Slytherin quidditch team is exceptionally high. I make sure of that.
It is the greatest desire to be selected for the honour of serving this house on my quidditch team. They almost all dream of being one of the school celebrities, performing before hordes of admiring students cheering them on to victory. With my return they longed to repeat the glorious run of my Father's team 30 years ago. During his time at the helm my father brought the Quidditch Cup home to Slytherin seven years in a row.
I kept them all guessing right up until the deadline. It made me laugh to watch their faces light up with desperate hope as I falsely hinted that they were still in the running. I sent them off on all sorts of ludicrous errands; I had so much chocolate cake smuggled up from the kitchens that I had to get rid of it by throwing it at the owls, and that first term I never had to complete a single piece of homework. I was perfectly capable of doing it myself of course; I just simply couldn't be bothered. And in my position, I don't have to. Oh I do so love to play games with people!
However there is one major problem with my quidditch team.
